It's Not So Bad

The world can be pretty boring sometimes. I love my school, I do, but sometimes Teacher does boring stuff that I already know. The bus ride home can be scary with all the older kids and no one to sit with. I do have friends, but just not here. They live in my super tall tree house that seems like it floats in the sky. Mommy didn't want Daddy to build it so high up, but Daddy said that I am a big girl, I'm seven, and that I’ll be fine. And I like being high up. Up there, I'm in my own little world without school or work and everything is simple. I can't wait to get home today.

I dump my backpack out on my bed, my colorful notebooks with cartoon girls and ponies on them spill everywhere. They look just like the ones all the other girls at school have. Mommy thought I would like those notebooks. I don't. I flip my backpack back over and put it on, quietly opening my door and creeping into the kitchen. Daddy is reading the paper in his big office down the hall, and Mommy is at work. I tip-toe into the kitchen and grab a muffin off the counter. I open up the back door and walk onto the snow-dusted lawn. I'm glad that I kept my shoes and coat on from school. I get to the bottom of the stairs that wind around the tree like a big snake.The steps creak as I take them two at a time, gripping the handrail tight with my small hands. Teacher said I should practice counting, so I multiply by two. I know how many there are by heart, by it does help to practice.

I finally get to the top, the cold wind drifting lazily through my raspberry hair. People always tell me my hair looks just like Mommy’s, but I have my Daddy’s brown eyes. No one has ever told me how much I look like me. I'm always my parents’ kid, their little pride and joy. I don't mind too much, but whenever I do something good, they praise my Mommy and Daddy for raising such a good girl. Adults don't make much sense.

The door is a dark wood, not the same as the tree around it but similar. The knob is wood too, but Daddy painted it to look like the shiny ones at home. The room is small and a little dark considering the light from the windows to my left and right on the walls. They aren't that big though. Another chilly wind sneaks in before I close the creaky door. “You can come out now, it's only me.” I whisper into the room.

At first, nothing happens. So I take the muffin from my backpack and break it into a few smaller pieces and lay them on the floor, then step back. I smile as I see my friends come into view. Their small soot black shapes may have scared me once, and their large green eyes sort of remind me of the monsters I see in my books, but my friends don't want to hurt me. And as I visited more and more, I learned things about them. For example, they like muffins, but chocolate chip are their favorite. There are only three, and I have fondly named each of them. Puffball is the oldest, Fluffles the youngest, and Anya is right in between. Puffball is a bit more round than her sisters, with more teal eyes rather than green. Fluffles is more sleek, but her tail is longer. She is the biggest, and always tries to steal food from my bag and from her sisters. Finally, Anya is the middle and the peace keeper. She likes to have her head pet, but Fluffles and Puffball only let my touch their backs. Anya kind of looks like a mix of her sisters, like a small dog with lime owl eyes. They quickly eat their treat then come padding up to me, big eyes almost glowing. I gently pat them on the backs, and Anya on the head. Their fur reminds me a bit of pine needles, only not as sharp at the ends.

I stand up and cross the small room, my friends in tow. I arrange the small pile of pillows that I managed to sneak up here so that I'm not sitting on the cold wood. I pull out a new book from my bag, getting comfortable. Anya settles down to my right, pressed up against me with her head on my hip. Puffball sits on the windowsill, right above my left shoulder. She likes to look at the pictures. Fluffles lays down in my lap, waiting. They love when I read them stories. Tales of faraway places, knights, castles, and happily ever after. I open to the first page. “Once upon a time…”